Chapter 36 - The Selection
Students buzzed with excitement, voices bouncing off the high ceilings in a frenzy of laughter, speculation, and overlapping questions. Silverware clinked forgotten on plates. Chairs scraped as students leaned closer to friends, already dreaming of castles and competitions. However, Ava sat motionless.
Her fingers still rested on the stem of her goblet, cold and tight, as if letting go might shatter whatever fragile stillness she was clinging to. Across from her, Isabella was glowing, talking animatedly in French to a cluster of other students. Even Marcell was leaning in to catch what she was saying, though his eyes flicked back to Ava with a quiet frown.
"You are pale," he murmured. "Are you alright?"
"I'm okay," she said softly, her voice thinner than she meant it to be. "I just… I wasn't expecting this."
Madame Maxime raised her hand again, silencing the room with a graceful sweep of her robes. Her expression was regal, unreadable.
"I know zis comes as a surprise," she said, her deep voice echoing with measured calm, "but Beauxbatons must choose only twelve students to attend Hogwarts for ze Triwizard Tournament." A ripple passed through the crowd.
"Twelve?" Ava repeated under her breath, blinking.
Maxime continued, "Any student of age, fourteen or older, may submit their name for consideration. Zere will be interviews, academic reviews, physical evaluations… and, of course, a demonstration of magical skill."
She wouldn't be forced to go. Wouldn't have to walk the same corridors, sleep in the same dormitory, or breathe the same air as the boy whose memory still lingered like a ghost on her skin. She wouldn't have to look into Fred's eyes and see all the hurt she left behind.
Her shoulders sagged just slightly like an invisible weight had loosened its grip on her spine. But even as her muscles unwound, a slow, hollow ache opened in her chest. A part of her, a quiet and stubborn ember that hadn't burned out, wanted to go. Not for glory. Not for the tournament… But for herself.
To stand in the place she ran from and face it. To speak the words she never got to say. This might be her chance to fix what she had broken.
But it didn't take long before her relief faded into guilt, sinking like a stone in her gut.
Was that even fair? After the way she disappeared? After the hurt she caused. Not just to Fred, but Angelina, George… and herself? Could she really just walk back into that world?
Did she deserve to?
A few days later…
The autumn light filtered through the tall, arched windows of the Beauxbatons library, casting delicate golden rays across rows of velvet-bound books and silver-inlaid study tables. The stained-glass panes caught the light just so, painting fragments of sapphire and rose across the marble floor. Bookshelves stretched nearly to the ceiling, carved from pale ash wood and lined with crystal filigree. Each shelf bore an embossed silver placard indicating its section: Spells, Theory, Charms, Runes, Poetry, and a softly glowing cabinet near the back labeled Magie Ancienne, locked behind protective wards.
Floating lamps hovered overhead, glowing with soft blue and amber fire, casting moving shadows along the spines of the books. In the far corner, enchanted quills scribbled unattended in open notebooks, paused between sentences like they were catching their breath. The space felt more like a sacred hall than a place of study.
Ava sat across from Marcell at one of the quieter alcove tables near the back. Quills scratched, pages turned softly, and enchanted lamps flickered gently overhead, casting moving shadows across the spines of worn spellbooks.
Marcell was talking quietly as he filled out a parchment in elegant, fluid strokes. "I still think Professor Verdant's exam was too long. Twelve essay questions? And zat last one about combining defensive enchantments and elemental charms? Impossible."
Ava offered a small smile as she jotted something in the margins of her Arithmancy book. "You managed just fine. I saw how fast you finished."
"Oui, but I also saw you drawing flowers in your margins." He gestured toward her open notes with a teasing lift of his brow. "Is zat a vine or… an attempt at distraction?"
"It's aesthetic," Ava deadpanned.
As they quietly spoke, whispers drifted through the aisles of bookshelves around them.
"…Madame Duchêne asked if I could perform nonverbal transfiguration…"
"…Heard Louis couldn't summon a single fire charm, poor idiot…"
"…Maxime's watching the duels herself…"
Ava's hand froze halfway to her ink bottle. Her eyes flicked toward the nearest cluster of students murmuring behind stacks of parchment, wide-eyed and flushed. The final evaluations had begun. It was all anyone could talk about.
"Bonjour, mes belles!" Isabella's voice rang out across the quiet library before the librarian could hush her. She was practically glowing, cheeks flushed with exhilaration as she swept over to their table. A few students turned their heads, shooting her a mix of admiration and annoyance.
"I 'ave just finished ze last round," she announced, dropping her bag onto the seat beside Ava and smoothing her sleek hair back into place. "Madame Maxime herself watched my spellwork. She smiled, Clarice. Smiled."
"That's encouraging," Marcell said, though his smile was faint and distracted.
Ava glanced up, gently closing her book.
Isabella leaned forward dramatically. "Zey made us duel. One of ze boys from upper year tried to cast a Disarming Charm and I countered before he even finished ze incantation." She looked almost dreamy. "I feel like a goddess."
Marcell chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked his quill behind his ear. "We should all be so lucky."
Ava listened, quietly tucking her hands beneath the table.
"So," Isabella said, resting her chin in her hand as her dark eyes swept over the two of them, "who do you think they'll pick? I 'eard they're looking for a mix of skills… Dueling, academics, magical control, diplomacy…"
"Probably students who can represent us well with the other schools," Marcell said. "Confident. Talented. Disciplined."
Isabella grinned. "So… me." Marcell tilted his head in amusement, shaking his head. Isabella's gaze shifted toward Ava.
"And you?" she asked. "How did your evaluations go? I didn't see you in the list for the transfiguration assessments."
Ava hesitated.
"I didn't put my name forward."
There was a beat of silence.
Isabella blinked. "Quoi? What do you mean, you didn't…why? You're smart. You're better at shielding spells than 'alf the students I've seen on the dueling floor!"
"I just… didn't think it was the right time," Ava said, keeping her voice even, her eyes fixed on the edge of the table.
Isabella huffed. "That's ridiculous. You could 'ave at least tried. Is this because of 'Ogwarts? Because of your little mysterious past?"
"Isa," Marcell said quietly.
Isabella raised her hands defensively. "What? I am only saying zat if I had the chance to go somewhere magical for a year, I would leap like a Hippogriff."
Ava forced a smile. "Maybe that's the difference between you and me."
Isabella narrowed her eyes, still unconvinced, but she didn't press further.
Marcell hadn't spoken but Ava could feel his gaze. She turned slightly to glance at him, and their eyes met.
There was no judgment in his expression but his brow had tightened just slightly. His fingers, still resting on his parchment, unmoving. His gaze was distant for a heartbeat longer than it should've been. Before the weight of it could settle between them, a shadow fell across the table.
It was Professor Lemoine, her dark robes pristine, her expression neutral but polite.
"Pardon, Mademoiselle Johnson," she said quietly. "Madame Maxime has requested a word with you. You may bring your things."
Ava blinked, taken off guard. "Did she say why?"
"No, only zat it is… important."
A few students nearby looked up, curious. Isabella straightened. Marcell's posture shifted slightly. Ava gathered her books slowly, sliding them into her satchel as her pulse began to race.
When she stood, Marcell rose as well, one hand lightly brushing the tabletop. His mouth parted like he might say something but then he simply nodded. Ava turned and followed Professor Lemoine toward the far end of the library.
What could Madame Maxime possibly want with her?
"You want me to go to Hogwarts?!"
Ava's voice pitched higher than intended, echoing slightly off the lacquered walls of Madame Maxime's study. She immediately flinched, half-expecting the elegant crystal sconces to tremble under the weight of her disbelief.
Madame Maxime, towering and unbothered, merely folded her hands atop her polished mahogany desk and gave Ava a long, measured look. "You are ze perfect candidate," she said smoothly.
"I…what? I never even submitted my name!" Ava sputtered, stepping forward. "There were interviews. Evaluations. People dueled. I was in the library."
Maxime raised a delicately sculpted brow. "Exactly."
Ava blinked. "I'm sorry… what?"
The headmistress didn't so much as twitch. "Ze selection process is not only for strength in magic. It is for character, poise, intelligence, and diplomatic value. And you, Mademoiselle Johnson, are uniquely suited for ze latter."
Ava stared at her. "Diplomatic?"
Maxime nodded once. "You are English by birth. You 'ave connections to both schools. You understand ze weight of secrecy and what it means to represent something larger zan yourself. You have shown restraint, discretion, and tact since arriving at Beauxbatons."
Ava opened her mouth, then closed it again. Since when did not talking about your trauma get you diplomatic points?
Maxime stood now, her deep blue robes sweeping the floor as she moved toward the window. The sunset beyond glinted against the crystal panes, casting a warm gold across her face.
"You were placed 'ere under unusual circumstances," she continued gently. "But with your godfather imprisoned, zere is no longer a need for shadows. You do not need to hide. And Dumbledore agrees."
Ava's heart thudded unevenly. "Dumbledore?"
Maxime turned back toward her. "'E specifically requested zat you join ze delegation. He believes you will be safe. And he would not 'ave asked if he did not believe it."
Ava's stomach twisted. The mention of Dumbledore brought too many feelings at once. She hadn't seen him since she left. Hadn't expected to hear his name now, let alone be told he wanted her back at Hogwarts.
"But…" Ava tried, searching for an excuse, any excuse, "What if… what if this draws attention? What if people start asking questions again?"
Maxime held out one elegant hand, palm open in quiet finality. "Zat is no longer your burden to carry. Ze truth does not need to be buried to keep you safe."
Ava stood in silence, the words pressing down on her chest like heavy velvet. She didn't know what she expected when she came to this meeting. Maybe a warning. Maybe a gentle reprimand about skipping evaluations. She certainly hadn't expected… this.
"May I think about it?" she asked at last, her voice quieter now.
Maxime gave a slight incline of her head. "You may sleep on it. But arrangements are already being made. Ze carriage leaves in three days. I truly 'ope you say yes."
